


To Build a Home

by tatertatra



Series: Paper Houses [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: (just 11 years but I thought I should tag it just in case), Age Difference, F/M, Mutual Pining, Past Lavellan/Solas, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-Trespasser, Slow Burn, meddling siblings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-01-17 08:35:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12361797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatertatra/pseuds/tatertatra
Summary: They tried to speak at the same time.“Cullen, I’m so sorry-”“You cut your hair-”They stopped, red-faced and falling back into their nervous tics. Cullen rubbed the back of his neck and ground the toe of his boot into the dirt.She almost laughed, tugging at the white-blonde hair that now barely brushed her shoulders. “I did. And you have a beard.”The corners of his eyes wrinkled. “I thought I’d give Blackwall a run for his money.”





	1. Chapter 1

Rhyella couldn’t feel her toes, despite two pairs of wool socks and a pair of fur-lined boots. She shouldn’t be surprised, of course; she’d never been particularly fond of Ferelden weather and it didn’t seem to care much for her either. And it wasn’t even winter yet.

She shivered and shook her head, pulling her cloak in tighter around her while she continued down the road. Cullen couldn’t have thought to settle somewhere warmer, to ask the Divine for a piece of land on a nice tropical island. But no, somehow, she’d always known he’d wind up back near Honnleath.

That foolish, aching feeling she’d been trying to bury in her gut came back to life, squeezing at her insides. Was she a fool for doing this? Why had she waited so long to see him? She’d spent time with everyone else since the Inquisition disbanded, but she could never quite bring herself to do more with Cullen than exchange a few cordial letters.

Maybe because every time she thought about it her hand started to sweat. 

Or maybe it was because she thought Cullen might think her young and naïve for still looking for… _ him _ .

She’d spent the last 4 years travelling across Thedas, turning over more dead ends than she could count. It was like trying to catch smoke. The more she faltered, the more times she came back from being  _ so close _ to just seeing him one more time, the more furious she grew. And it weighed on her until she felt she couldn’t breathe.

Her friends had helped where they could, and she’d aided them in their affairs like no time had passed at all. But, oh, time  _ had _ passed, and she was  _ tired _ . Exhausted and angry in her bones, in her soul.

And there was only one person left who might understand what that feels like.

She crested over the hill and spotted the sanctuary below. It was a compound of various buildings, built of sturdy dark logs and winding dirt paths. A few people milled about, mostly floating between the largest building and the smaller Chantry. A pair of men sparred in a ring near the entrance. 

It felt warm and healing, the mountain air crisp with the smell of burning wood and baking bread. In all this suffering, Cullen had succeeded in building a place of peace. Despite herself, she smiled.

“Well done, Commander,” she hummed to herself. “At least one of us has had a bit of success.”

She followed the road to where ended before what she assumed was the main building. The handful of people outside cast her curious glances, realization dawning on the few who managed to spot her lack of a left arm. Thankfully though, no one fell to their knees with throes of  _ Inquisitor _ or  _ Herald _ . She reached out towards the great door and paused.

Her stomach lurched suddenly. This was a bad idea, she could turn back now and maybe he’d never know she’d been there. 

Creators, though, why was she so nervous?

She was about to turn on her heel when a series of thunderous barks echoed across the sanctuary. 

Whirling towards the ruckus, she spotted a mabari bounding across the lawn with its tail wagging and tongue lolling from the side of its mouth. It took a moment for it to register, but when it did she dropped to her knees before the whole courtyard. Her heart seized and her throat swelled. Remus remembered her and he was running towards her like they’d never left Skyhold.  

He leapt into her arms and managed to erase all evidence of tears with his slobbery tongue. It was all she could to not to collapse onto the ground entirely. Remus had specks of grey in his coat now, and he was more fat than muscle, but he was still just as excitable as the last time she’d seen him. 

She buried her face against his neck and laughed, letting her hand drag through his fur to scratch behind his ear. The words almost disappeared in a strangled sob. “I’ve missed you too, boy.”

_ Maybe this wasn’t such a stupid idea after all _ , she thought. But then she heard Cullen’s voice calling over his mabari. 

“Maker’s breath, Remus, please don’t eat the guests before they can even get through the door!”

She froze until his quickened footsteps stopped just on the other side of Remus.

“I’m so sorry, my lady,” he said. “He usually doesn’t act like this, I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

Rhyella took a breath before looking up. He inhaled sharply when he saw her, and her eyes widened at the sight of him. No armor, no fur mantle, no army to lead or world to save. Just Cullen, looking more well-rested than he ever had at Skyhold.

Her lips turned upwards. “I think he just missed me,” she said softly, but not before finishing with a tease, “ _ Commander _ .”

His mouth hung open a moment before he snapped it shut, color appearing high on his cheeks. The scar on his lip peaked just above…oh good grief, was that a  _ beard _ ? She couldn’t stop staring at it before she started to blush herself. 

He swallowed. “Inqu-  _ Rhyella _ ? What are you doing here?”

Her gaze flicked back to his eyes. Still warm and golden despite the very present shock. “I thought I should come see what you’ve been up to these last few years.” She tried to keep her tone light and friendly, but she was failing miserably. A shadow of hurt passed over his face and she looked away, suddenly interested in the grey on Remus’ snout. “But I should go, I should’ve written.”

“No!” He took a step towards her before stopping, like he’d caught himself about to do something foolish. “No, I mean, it’s fine! You’re more than welcome! I’m just…surprised you’re here.”

Remus nudged his head against her chest and she stood, absentmindedly running her hand over her left shoulder. She sighed. “That makes the two of us.”

When she looked up again he was staring at her, trying to take everything that had changed about her. Guilt crawled up her spine. She’d been nineteen when they’d met, a scrawny little elf with an apparent penchant for being at the wrong place at the right time. They’d saved the world together, and maybe she owed him more after that than showing up as a twenty-six-year-old stranger.

They tried to speak at the same time.

“Cullen, I’m so sorry-”

“You cut your hair-”

They stopped, red-faced and falling back into their nervous tics. Cullen rubbed the back of his neck and ground the toe of his boot into the dirt. 

She almost laughed, tugging at the white-blonde hair that now barely brushed her shoulders. “I did. And you have a beard.”

The corners of his eyes wrinkled. “I thought I’d give Blackwall a run for his money.”

That made her laugh in earnest. They stood in silence, soaking in each other’s company but unsure of what to do or say next. 

It still felt unfinished, like there was an infinite number of things left to be said. But for just a moment, Rhyella felt like she could breathe again, if only a little bit.

A soft smile tugged at Cullen’s mouth. “I’m glad you’re here.”

She snorted to break the tension. “Don’t say that yet. Bad luck tends to follow me around, so who knows what trouble I’m going to get you in while I’m here.”

He paled briefly before shaking it away with a shaky laugh. “Well, I can’t say I haven’t enjoyed the peace and quiet. Maybe we’re overdue for another apocalypse scare.”

Solas’ voice echoed in the back of her mind and she sucked in a breath.

_ I will save the elven people _ ,  _ even if that means this world must die _ .

A phantom pain sparked up what remained of her left arm. The ache of stolen magic suddenly ripped away. She hissed and groped for what wasn’t there. As easy as falling, she was sucked back to that time and place.

Searing, white-hot pain in her arm. Sickly green light spills from her skin. It’s pulling at the place beyond and ripping it open with claws that seek to bleed.

The anchor is killing her. 

She is going to die, on her knees before a god she loved. But he’s here. Oh gods, he’s here and he’s real and she’s  _ missed _ him.

A world of Eluvians, and red-flowered branches that grow through a forgotten empire. Golden armor. A wolf pelt over his shoulder. Then she understands.

Immeasurable sorrow on his face. It feels like her heart is going to break through her ribs.

_ Solas, var lath vir suledin! _

_ I wish it could, vhenan.  _

He kisses her and takes the hand that aches.

Remus butted her legs and brought her crashing back to the world before her. She curses herself because she’s crying  _ again _ , doubled over with Cullen’s hand warm on her back. But the pain was gone and she was still alive. 

Working lungs.

A thundering, working heart.

Cullen’s voice saying her name and the distant sound of birds in the trees.

She smells Remus and wood and leather.

_ Alive _ .

Solas had not destroyed the world. There was still hope. A life to make. Somewhere, somehow. 

She clenched her eyes shut and shook her head before opening them again. “I’m fine. I’m sorry.”

“Maker’s breath, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m so sorry.” She felt his fingers tighten on the fabric of her cloak and Remus whined at her feet. “You should come in and rest, I’m sure it’s been a long journey. One of the healers can look at you.” Concern, true and deep unlike anything she’d heard in a long time laced through his words. She shook off the thought.

“Apparently I’ve come to the right place.” A bitter laugh escaped her lips. She stood and gave him a weary nod. “But I mean it, I’m okay. It’s just-”

He gave her a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “A bad day,” he finished.

She let her eyes close again. “Yes. That. I seem to have a lot of those.”

“At least let me make it up to you with food and a bed.” He dropped his hand from her back and moved to push open the door. “Please.”

She was still shaking, fighting back the memories that wanted to drag her away from the present. But she nodded. Her stomach growled and the numbness in her toes had started to spread to her fingers. 

She’d come all this way to help Cullen’s home for ex-Templars, to help heal those who had already given so much. She’d been good at that once. Helping. Leading. Healing. 

But she supposed it was fitting she’d end up somewhere in the Frostbacks again, the place where this whole thing had started, for healing of her own. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MMMM My first dragon age fic! To be quite honest, I didn't think my first attempt at anything dragon age would be a Cullen/Inquisitor multi-chapter fic, but here we are.   
> Anyway, I wanted to explore what happens with my dearest Inquisitor after the events of Trespasser. In my head anyway. And fret not, the point of this fic isn't to bash Solas either.   
> I hope you all enjoy the ride and as always, I'm very thankful for my betas, Leslie and Alex.   
> Find me on tumblr @ tatraas


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He sat again, never removing his hand and trying to pour all his strength into her. “But you’re alive. You will endure.”  
> She shook her head weakly, pulling her lower lip between her teeth. “How do you know?”  
> “Because I know you.” He offered her a sad smile. “Because I am your Commander.”

_Before_ :

Dorian came crashing through the mirror with Rhyella in his arms and blood soaked through the front of his robes. He was ashen and sweating, but furious. His mouth was carved into a snarl that spat curses in Tevene and whatever other languages came to mind. They were already through the door before Cullen could rush to his side, heartbeat thundering in his ears and stomach in his knees.

If not for the shallow movement in her chest, he would’ve thought her dead. She was pale as a ghost, covered in a sickly sheen of sweat and her hair had come undone from the braids usually arranged on the back of her head. She was covered in dirt and soot and—

And _Maker_ there was blood everywhere.

A gnarled mash of flesh hung limply to her side. No anchor, no hand, no arm below the elbow.

_No_.

“What happened in there?” Cullen couldn’t keep his voice even, check the absolute rage and terror that threatened to choke him.

Dorian’s lips curled over his teeth even more. He was shouting without even looking at Cullen. “Somebody get a fucking healer!”

Cassandra and Cole came rushing through the mirror just behind Dorian, not even bothering to pause to look at anyone besides Rhyella. Even they looked haggard, but it hardly seemed to matter.

A few of the Inquisition soldiers leapt immediately into action, rushing off to find anything, anyone that could help. The rest of them were all running together, hovered around Dorian with Rhyella cradled in his arms.

Cullen found Cassandra’s gaze, buried behind a fog of grief. She finally looked up at him and her eyebrows knitted together. He could feel worry rolling off her in waves. “What happened?” he asked again, steadier this time, but no less infuriated.

“Solas,” she hissed.

Cullen thought he going to fall through the floor. “ _Solas_ did this?”

He thought they were—

Before—

“Yes.” Cassandra closed her eyes and sighed. “But it’s complicated.”

“Complicated? She’s almost dead!”

“It would’ve killed her. He saved her.” Cole had curled in on himself, eyes wide and almost unseeing. He shook his head. “He kisses her when he takes it: sorry, sorrowful, Solas. He is the Dread Wolf and she doesn’t understand, until she does. The anchor is stone but then it is gone and so is he. It hurts, it hurts. Come back.”

Cullen gritted his teeth. He clenched his fist to keep from punching the nearest wall. “That doesn’t make it right!”

Cole shook his head again. “There was nothing right left.”

They turned towards the entrance of the Winter Palace and the guards there almost dropped their weapons in shock.

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” Dorian said. “And _Andraste’s tits_ , where are all the fucking healers?! Your Inquisitor is going to die!”

Cassandra pointed at the guards. “Make sure the Eluvian is guarded at all times. Kill anything that comes through.” She turned back to Cullen and gripped his shoulder. “Stay with Dorian. I’m going find Leliana.”

She didn’t wait for Cullen’s curt nod before jogging off into the palace ahead.

 ------

The last of the healers had left over an hour ago and he had dismissed everyone else to go rest and get cleaned up, though he suspected they wouldn’t listen for long. It had taken nearly three hours for the healers to stabilize all her wounds.

Dorian was the last to go, casting Cullen a pitiful glance as he slipped out the door. “I’d tell you to keep an eye on her but—”

“Enough,” Cullen said, burying his head in his hands. He heard Dorian sigh and close the door behind him.

The room fell into silence after that, save for the sound of Rhyella’s slow, steady breaths. She was stable, the healers had said she’d live. Her arm was gone, of course. There was nothing they could do about that, but she could move on. She was alive and for him, that was more than enough. He’d felt the whole room loose a collected breath when the healers had announced that.

There wasn’t a single person left in the Inquisition that wouldn’t give their lives to see her happy. At least she still had that.

Her room smelled of blood and elfroot, and scent of it stung his nose. Remnants of mana crackled in the air still, leaving just enough ozone to make the hair on the back of Cullen’s neck stand on end.

He could close his eyes and it’d be just like being a Templar again. Like a harrowing gone wrong, like one of his friends had taken the brunt of an abomination.

So he sought the only thing that might provide him comfort. He bowed his head and prayed.

_Maker, though the darkness comes upon me,_

_I shall embrace the Light. I shall weather the storm._

_I shall endure._

_What you have created, no one can tear asunder._

He didn’t look up until he heard her voice, shaky and hoarse. “Cullen?”

His head whipped up. He stood, for some reason he couldn’t quite understand, hands fluttering over her form before coming to rest on her arm. “Inquisitor! Thank the Maker.”

She stared at him for a moment, a crease between her brows and tears welling in her eyes.

He’d been by her side for many things, countless trials that seemed hopeless at the time. But when she turned to take in the absence of her left arm, the look on her face was the most broken he’d ever seen her. No light remained in her eyes, once bright and the color of lavender.

In all his years as a soldier, he’d seen people lose limbs more times than he could count. And everyone’s reaction was a different mixture of the same emotions: anger, grief, sorrow, and at last, resilience. He hoped that part came to her with ease.

He slid his hand up to squeeze her shoulder. He thought he might come up with something better to say, but all he could manage was, “It’s going to be okay.”

“It’s gone,” she whispered. A few tears slid down her cheeks, making her look too young.

He sat again, never removing his hand and trying to pour all his strength into her. “But you’re alive. You will endure.”

She shook her head weakly, pulling her lower lip between her teeth. “How do you know?”

“Because I know you.” He offered her a sad smile. “Because I am your Commander.”

Her arm slipped from his grasp. She brought her hand over her mouth to muffle a sob. Her whole body shook, small and broken and weeping with pure grief.

He let his shoulders fall, letting the feeling of helplessness wash over him. “You’re still the Inquisitor. You are _still_ Rhyella of Clan Lavellan.” He frowned. “No one can ever take that away from you.”

She paused to watch him, but said nothing.

“You should rest. Do you want me to get Dorian?”

After a moment, she nodded. He stood and tried to ignore the little bits of jealousy that were digging into his skin.

As he moved towards the door, she spoke, so softly he was unsure if it had truly happened at all. “Thank you, Cullen.”

“You _will_ endure, Inquisitor.” And then he slid out into the hall to find Dorian.

 

* * *

 

 

Rhyella woke up in a room she didn’t recognize. Her muscles tensed to run, to get up and fight her way out but she was—

Safe.

And alone.

Her eyes settled on an armor stand, topped with a familiar lion’s helm.

And in Cullen’s room.

Oh, that stupid, _stupid_ man.

She kicked back the covers and scrambled out of his bed, face hot and swearing under her breath.

The last thing she remembered was sitting in his office, curled up on the floor before the hearth with a mug of ale. They’d talked of the sanctuary, the people that had been saved and lost, carefully tiptoeing around where she’d been the past four years. She was thankful for that.

But apparently, she’d dozed off. And instead of putting her in a guest room, he’d brought her to his room. Like an idiot.

She felt like her cheeks were going to burst into flames. If Dorian could see her now he’d be rolling on the floor, shrieking in absolute boyish delight. She’d kick him while he was down, but he’d only waggle his eyebrows and shoot her a suggestive comment about waking up in Cullen’s bed. She’d probably die on the spot.

Speaking of Dorian though, the crystal around her neck started to hum.

She pulled it out of her tunic and cradled it in her palm, pouring just enough mana into it to make it spark. She sat at the foot of Cullen’s bed and waited. Dorian’s voice made her smile when he finally cut in.

“Rise and shine, Lavellan! I’ve been trying to contact you all morning, I was almost worried!”

She laughed. “No need to leave the magisters yet, I was just…more tired than I thought. I don’t even know what time it is here.”

He made a thoughtful noise. “Where exactly is _here_?”

_Uh oh_. She gnawed on her lower lip and tapped her nails across the crystal.

“Don’t tap me, woman. I want an answer.”

“I’m safe, don’t worry!” She sighed and grimaced, bracing for what was about to come. “I’m at Cullen’s.”

There was a pause on the other end, before he started howling with laughter.

She thought sincerely about dropping the connection and jumping out the window. “I’m glad you think it’s funny.”

“Funny?” he cried. “My dear, I think it’s shitting _hilarious_. It’s about time.”

“Don’t start all that again, I’m just here to help.”

“Help? Help him with his _enormous—_ ”

“Enough!” She buried her face in his hands while he erupted into laughter again. “Dorian, please, you’re not making this better. I already woke up in his bed this morning.”

“You _what_?” She could practically hear him grinning. “You know, I’m not one to judge but that was awfully fast. I expect all the gory details!”

“It’s not quite as scandalous as you’re thinking. I fell asleep visiting last night and _poof_! I wake up in his room.”

“You know, you two make me absolutely sick. I love it.”

She fell back onto the bed, letting the necklace drop back onto her chest while she draped her arm over her eyes. It didn’t matter anymore, she might as well let Dorian listen to her turn into a simpering maiden. “While we’re gossiping, you should know he has a beard now.”

“Oh, I bet he looks proper Ferelden now! Like he could build you a nice log cabin and carry you over the threshold.”

A bark of laughter bubbled up from her chest. “You’re not wrong.”

“And…? What do you think?”

Just when she thought her face might’ve returned to its normal color, she felt heat creeping up her neck again. “Should it matter what I think?”

“Since you’re tiptoeing around it I’m just going to assume you think it’s terribly handsome and rugged.”

She rolled her eyes. “Anyway. I should go and find him. Thank him for tucking me in, I suppose.”

“Well you know where I’ll be. Tell him I’m counting down until the next time I can beat him at chess and wipe that smug grin off his handsome face.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him.”

He sighed. “Take care, my dear. I miss you terribly.”

The corner of her mouth quirked up. “I miss you too, Dorian. Give the Imperium hell.”

“Don’t I always?”

She felt the crystal grow cold and the static in the air dissipate. Her chest always ached after she talked to Dorian, equal parts love and immense sadness. She was thankful to be able to talk to him as often as she did though. She imagined no one else in the world had a talented enough friend to invent new magic just to keep in touch.

She held it in the palm of her hand for a moment before slipping it back into her shirt and rising from the bed. It was only a minor inconvenience she couldn’t hide in here forever.

So with a deep breath, and the most courage she’d had to muster in at least a year, she slid out of Cullen’s room to find him.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at that, a whole chapter 2. (And I'm almost done with a chapter 3 as well.) I had originally planned to write most if not all of this fic and post updates on a weekly schedule but lmaooooo I'm just a poor writer in need of constant validation.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! Hopefully the flashback in the beginning isn't too hard to follow.  
> Comments and kudos are all very much appreciated! Thank you to everyone who left kudos on chapter one :)  
> And as always, shout out to the betas, Leslie and Alex. I'm eternally in your debt.  
> Find me on tumblr @ tatraas


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He thought about getting up to join her on the chaise but something in his gut stopped him. Fear. Embarrassment. “Your presence is more helpful than you know.”  
> She hummed under her breath. “That’s comforting at least.”  
> “I’m serious, Rhyella.” His eyes fell to his desk, too overwhelmed to look at her and speak at the same time. “I want you to stay. Will you please stay?”  
> She didn’t say anything for a moment and Cullen was certain he’d made a mistake. Then, he looked up and she was watching him with a sad smile. “Well since you asked so nicely.”

Cullen was trying to work out the crick in his neck. He probably should’ve found someplace a little better to fall asleep than the chaise in his office, but it was too late for that now.

Last night had been more soothing than he cared to admit. It was good to see Rhyella again, even if she was decidedly  _ different _ .

It was something he hadn’t quite put his finger on yet, and last night hardly seemed the right moment to pry, so he’d let her fill the silence with questions about him, what he’d been doing. But every time he looked at her, she’d smile but it was like the light had been snuffed out.

She was older and people changed, yes. He was used to that. He was used to people coming back from war and being different. Foolishly though, he’d always prayed she wouldn’t be one of them.

Maybe that was selfish of him.

He knew in the years after disbanding the Inquisition she’d crisscrossed Thedas, searching, hunting. Mourning. He’d received the most letters from her while she was in Tevinter. Part of him wanted to believe she was just spending time with Dorian, but letters from the newly appointed Magister himself had confirmed his suspicions.

She was still looking for Solas.

He understood of course, but it didn’t seem to make him any less angry. Angry at him. Angry on her behalf.

He might’ve been…inexperienced with love, but he knew Rhyella had  _ loved _ Solas. True and innocent. Everyone had seen it, knew it. Even if they didn’t necessarily approve. Maybe he supposed Solas had loved her back in his own way, but he had kept so much from her. He’d lied, omitted,  _ whatever— _ and then left her.

Then when he’d finally told the truth, he left her  _ again _ .

Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose. The whole ordeal gave him a headache.

The clock on the wall chimed midday, breaking him from his thoughts. While he’d been working since dawn, the stack of papers before him had barely shrunk at all. And it didn’t help his thoughts kept drifting off to...

He groaned into his hands.

It seemed no matter where he was, some things never changed. At least the paperwork though, he could deal with.

There were always letters and requisitions to attend to, piling up on his desk. Though his desk here was much smaller than that at Skyhold. And matters a little less grim, if just slightly. He always had too much to do.

Remus had settled at his feet, barely managing to squeeze in the space. He snorted in his sleep and kicked at the air, flopping over onto his back for whatever belly rubs this particular dream had granted. He kicked again, this time hitting the underside of Cullen’s desk and sending a thankfully-closed ink bottle clattering to the floor.

Cullen slowly closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. “Alright, I think it’s time for a break.”

“Talk to yourself a lot, do you?”

He nearly jumped out of his skin.

Rhyella stood in the doorway, a smirk playing on her mouth.

“Maker, I didn’t hear you come in!” He stood and placed a hand over his heart, feeling it hammer against his ribs.

She shrugged and pointed to her feet, clad in just a pair of wool socks. “Well, I can’t find my boots.” Her eyes flicked over the room, quickly falling on them tucked against the wall next to the crackling fireplace. “But I see you’ve been up all night guarding them. I knew I could count on you.”

A grin split his face. “Ah, yes. Sacred duty, that. I had to make sure Remus wouldn’t eat them.”

Just on cue, Remus stretched and crawled from his place under Cullen’s desk, sauntering over to Rhyella.

She smiled and squatted down to scratch him behind the ears. “You’d never do such a thing, would you boy?”

Remus’ tongue flopped from his snout as he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch.

Cullen laughed. “Right.  _ Never _ .”

Neither of them said anything for a while, the room filling with the sound of Remus’ happy panting. Unsure of what to do, Cullen settled back into chair and watched the two.

Rhyella was the first to break the silence. “I’ll be honest with you, Cullen. I’m not really sure how to be still anymore. I don’t even really know why I’m here.”

His chest ached. “You don’t have to do anything here. You’re more than welcome to just stay and rest.”

She rose from Remus and moved to sit on the chaise across from the fireplace. She sat on the edge, like she wouldn’t allow herself to get comfortable enough to stay. “I wanted to help you, to help the men and women here trying to do what you did.” Her gaze found its way to her hand upturned in her lap. “But as it turns out, I don’t think I’m in much shape to help anyone.”

He thought about getting up to join her on the chaise but something in his gut stopped him. Fear. Embarrassment. “Your presence is more helpful than you know.”

She hummed under her breath. “That’s comforting at least.”

“I’m serious, Rhyella.” His eyes fell to his desk, too overwhelmed to look at her and speak at the same time. “I want you to stay. Will you please stay?”

She didn’t say anything for a moment and Cullen was certain he’d made a mistake. Then, he looked up and she was watching him with a sad smile. “Well since you asked so nicely.”

“It’s settled then.” Another small smile. “I’m glad.”

“Ah,” she said. “Not quite. I do believe if I’m to stay, I shouldn’t kick you out of your bed.”

He flushed and ran his hand over the back of his neck. “Right. About that—”

She laughed then, a genuine sound that almost made his embarrassment worth it. “It’s fine. Thank you for tucking me in.”

He wanted to crawl under his desk. Instead, he shrugged. Feigning confidence he didn’t have. “It was nothing.”

“Right,” she said, scuffing her socked foot across the floor. Remus flopped down beside her with an unceremonious thump.

They fell again into silence, but this time tension hung in the air like smoke. Cullen thought he might choke on it. 

He tried to focus on the documents on his desk before him.  _ Again _ . As if he truly thought he’d manage to get through them with her in the room. He read the same sentence three times before he huffed and tossed them to the side.

“Oh!” Rhyella said suddenly. “I talked to Dorian this morning.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her before he remembered. Right. The magic crystal,  _ thing _ . He still didn’t quite understand how such a thing could exist but he didn’t question it.  “I’m sure he had something clever to say at my expense. As usual. How is he?” He did miss the man, though he’d never admit it to his face. He was smug enough as it was. Still, he grinned fondly.

“He told me to tell you that he was counting down the days to a rematch. He was really looking forward to wiping that smug look off your face.”

Never mind. He didn’t miss him at all. “Of course he did.”

For just a moment there was light in her eyes again, like a little of her burdens had been lifted away. “Oh come on now, you know you miss him.”

Cullen laughed this time. “I will admit, it’s been awhile since I’ve won a match. Branson can’t be bothered to play these days but my sisters never miss the chance to beat me.”

She turned to give him a half-hearted stink eye. “He and Bull have been practicing, so you never know. He might beat you after all.”

He scoffed. “I doubt that.”

She made a noise in the back of her throat. “You men and your foolish pride.” She almost sounded sad before she stood up and gathered her boots from beside the fire. “But anyway, I should have a look around, introduce myself if I’m to be staying here for a while.” With little fuss, she slid her feet into her boots and wiped her palm on her thigh, brushing away dust that wasn’t there.

When Cullen stood again, the sadness on her face was gone, replaced by a careful cheery mask. He simply nodded. “Of course! Let me show you around.” He moved around his desk and offered her an arm. She took it, but not before the both of them could blush and find themselves suddenly intrigued by the floor.

Her hand was warm in the crook of his elbow.

She dipped into a dramatic curtsy. “If you insist, Commander.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short little chapter I hope you all enjoyed!   
> You know the drill by now. Comments and kudos are much loved and appreciated.   
> Many thanks to the faithful betas whom I kill and pester with this story, Alex and Leslie.  
> Find me on tumblr @ tatraas


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She watched him for a moment, the way his gaze was steady and unyielding on hers, almost begging for her not to look away. Standing in the light like that, he could’ve been made entirely of gold. The sun in his blond hair, honey-colored eyes.  
> He was warm and safe, like—  
>  _Oh_ , she thought suddenly. _Cullen feels like home._

Rhyella found it hard to ignore all the eyes that followed them. It wasn’t that she wasn’t used to be watched. No, that particular shyness had been stripped from her years ago. But now, their eyes settled on her hand, tucked delicately into the crook of his arm.

It made her cheeks burn. The way they all stared before their eyes travelled up to find her red-faced and stupidly doe-eyed. Their eyebrows would raise a fraction and they dipped their heads. Sometimes their faces gave way to awe before they said their piece.

A woman with greying hair and warm brown skin seemed to spring from the ground before them and looked like she might burst into tears. Rhyella spotted a scar that ran across the back of her skull as she bowed. “Herald of Andraste! We are truly blessed by the Maker with you amongst us.” The woman straightened and scrubbed her hands across her face. She gave Rhyella a watery smile. “Your presence here inspires me more than you know.”

Rhyella felt her throat tighten. Sometimes it was hard to take the praise she felt she didn’t deserve. It was like an itch that crawled across her shoulders. But sometimes, speaking with those she admired, it didn’t quite feel like she’d deceived everyone into thinking she was _good_.

She returned the woman’s smile with ease. “You’re too kind. Please, just call me Rhyella.” She slipped her hand from Cullen’s arm and touched the woman’s shoulder. “And yours is the one to inspire. All the people here are stronger than I could ever dream to be.”

Fresh tears slid down the woman’s cheeks. She rushed forward and pulled Rhyella into her arms, pressing a kiss against each of her cheeks. “You are too good for this cruel world, Herald.”

Before Rhyella could respond, the woman turned on her heel and disappeared into the Chantry.

She blinked, trying to decide if she’d just hallucinated the whole thing.

Cullen let out a low chuckle and stepped forward. “That was Emilia. She’s a good woman, if a little emotional. She was a templar for twenty years. Barely escaped the events of Therinfal Redoubt.” She turned to watch as his gaze turned cold. “She’s expected to fully recover from her lyrium addiction, or as well as one can. She’s the most veteran soldier to survive the withdrawals.”

Rhyella frowned and curled her hand around his forearm, bringing him back from whatever dark place his thoughts had taken him. “She’s incredibly strong. And brave.” She gave him a half-smile before tugging him along. “And lucky to have you.”

He fell into step beside her. “It has more to do with her strength and bravery than me, though I appreciate the thought.”

She snorted. “Cassandra was right. You give yourself too little credit.”

He watched her for a moment, then decided not to say anything. Instead, he tugged until they turned around the other side of the chantry, walking down between the stables and outlying cabins.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Do you know the stories of everyone here?”

His mouth straightened into a solemn line. “It’s my duty to know. It’s too often they have no one left to remember them.”

She understood then. “We will not let their suffering be forgotten.”

She felt his arm tense under her fingers, just briefly enough to give her pause. “And we will build them something better for it,” he said.

He stopped walking and she continued a few steps before she realized what he was trying to show her.

“For those we lost.”

Tucked behind the Chantry was a memorial to those who had given their lives for the Inquisition.

A smooth, stone wall, about her height and arm’s width apart sat in the middle of a wrought-iron-fenced garden. Pristine, polished, and mournful. Ivy clung to the fence posts, spiraling and reaching towards the sky until very little of the metal remained peaking through. Pansies and violets spilled out of their stone planters at the base of the wall, one last burst of color before the frost came.

A simple, backless wood bench sat before the memorial. A place to contemplate, to pray. It was more beautiful than she could find words for. And her heart was aching for it.

She gasped and slipped from his side, picking her way slowly to the gate. The backs of her eyes stung, and when she blinked she was crying.

Somehow she kept finding herself in this position: blubbering like an idiot in front of Cullen.

The gate opened without squeal, well-worn hinges swinging with ease.

Upon the stone wall was carved the names of every civilian and soldier that had been lost in their fight against Corypheus. Where she’d been scared to approach before, seeing their names carried her forward. She stepped around the bench without thinking and stood in the wall’s shadow.

It took a heartbeat before she realized she was an arm’s length away from it. Blinking through the tears, she read each name, committing it to memory and savoring the ones she’d known personally. She reached out until her fingers brushed the letters.

She read Felix’s name. She’d have to tell Dorian about that, he’d be glad.

She’d never had the chance to know every soldier under her charge. There’d simply been too many, but seeing them carved into stone made it real. They had all been _people_. People with hopes and dreams and loved ones. They had given everything to follow her into war, when she was too young and too naïve to understand what that had meant.

But somehow, they’d won. She’d _won_ for _them_.

She would continue to live for them too.

She’d never been one for prayer, not to the Maker and not even for her own gods, no matter how hard the Keeper had tried to squeeze sincerity from her. But letting each name roll silently over her tongue was as close as she imagined she’d ever get.

She didn’t know how long she stood there, letting the tears fall freely, tracing their names with her fingers. When she dropped her hand and turned, Cullen was leaning against the back of the Chantry but looking away to give her privacy. He absentmindedly ran his hand over Remus’ back.

She wiped her hand across her face and let out a small laugh. “I’m so sorry, I lost track of time.”

His head whipped around, pushing off against the wall. “No, you’re fine! I didn’t want to leave you alone but I figured you should have your privacy.”

She watched him for a moment, the way his gaze was steady and unyielding on hers, almost begging for her not to look away. Standing in the light like that, he could’ve been made entirely of gold. The sun in his blond hair, honey-colored eyes.

He was warm and safe, like—

_Oh_ , she thought suddenly. _Cullen feels like home._

She didn't let the thought linger for long.

Her stomach flipped before she could speak. “Cullen—”

“Do you like it?” He was rubbing the back of his neck like he always did when he was nervous. “Mia helped plant the flowers. I wanted someplace simple and reflective. I didn’t have any religious items put in because I know not everyone is Andrastian—”

She let out a tight breath and smiled softly. “It’s beautiful, Cullen. It’s perfect.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I’m glad you approve.”

She crossed the space between them, pausing to close the gate behind her and give Remus an affectionate scratch. Without fuss, she took his arm again and let him guide her back to the main building.

She didn’t seem to mind the eyes on them anymore.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“So what are you going to do now?”

Cullen looked up from the stack of books he was trying to sort. “I don’t know. Go back to Ferelden for a bit, I suppose. I’d like to—”

Dorian sighed and pushed off from the wall, arms crossed over his chest and mustache downturned into a scowl. “I’m not talking about that.”

Cullen’s temper had been on edge since the Exalted Council. The trip back to Skyhold after Rhyella’s recovery had been torturous and quiet.

No one wanted to face that all of this was...over.

Or that Solas was not _Solas_.

There was so much left to do, so much to try and _not_ think about. Perhaps that was the thing that ate at him most. After this, there would be so much time for his thoughts to consume.

Yet there was Dorian, poking and prying and trying to wring the truth out of him like a damn rag. Cullen gripped the edge of the trunk he was trying to fit his books into and ground his teeth. “ _Maker_ , not now.”

“Why?” Dorian asked, chest puffed and indignant. He stood in front of Cullen’s desk and shook his head. “Because you’re a bloody coward? Because you’re too afraid what might happen if you _try_?”

“Enough!” It came ripping out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Dorian had the mind to flinch at least, though he didn’t back down. Cullen’s knuckles were white and shaking. “What would you have me do? Run in there and confess my love? Fall to her feet and tell her I’ve loved her from the first moment I saw her?”

It took all of his strength not to swing when Dorian’s mouth twitched with amusement. “That might be a good place to start, yes.”

Cullen sighed and closed his eyes. “She is _hurting_ , Dorian.”

“And so are you!” Dorian fell forward and rested his hands against the desk, letting his head drop. There was a rueful note to his voice. “I know you think you don’t deserve this but you do. _Andraste’s wrinkled ass_ , you’re a good man, Cullen!” He looked up again and tried to blink back the glassy look in his eyes. “You’re going to let her get away because you’re scared. And you both deserve better than that.”

Cullen’s heart gave a pathetic thump against his ribs. “But she still loves him,” he said, suddenly finding it difficult to keep his voice above anything other than a pathetic whisper.

“She’s heartbroken. There’s a difference.”

When Cullen opened his mouth to reply, Dorian threw up his hands. “You’re running out of time. Just promise me you’ll think about it. ”

The tension seemed to evaporate out of the room. Cullen gave a half-hearted laugh. “Fine. _Maker’s breath_ , I’ll think about it.” He scrubbed his hand across his face and collapsed into the chair behind him. “Just...give me a few moments.”

Dorian nodded, smug grin plastered across his mouth. “Don’t think too hard, you might hurt that pretty little head of yours.”

Before he could say anything, Dorian disappeared out the door and left him alone with his thoughts, but this time they were far less frightening.

\------

The door to Rhyella’s room was unlocked when he went to see her.

He pushed it open and listened for any sounds of life, only to be greeted with silence and the candlelight that made shadows dance down the stairs. It seemed all of Skyhold had gone to bed over an hour ago but he’d hoped she’d still be awake.

“Rhyella?” he whispered.

He let his footsteps up the stairs fall heavier than normal, trying desperately not to frighten her or walk in on anything...he wasn’t supposed to see.

_Ah, Maker._ He tried to wipe the redness from his face.

“Rhyella, are you awake?” He crested the stairs and looked out over her room through the railing. “It’s—”

Empty.

A few of her belongings were missing and the wardrobe was thrown open. He didn’t panic until his eyes fell on a letter placed upon her pillow.

“Rhyella!”

He bounded up the rest of the steps and crossed the room. Every hair on the back of his neck stood up as he plucked the letter from her bed and began to read.

 

_To the Inquisition—_

 

_I’m so sorry. You all deserve better than what I can give right now, what I have given in the past._

_You all will go on to do great things, I know. I think of the one thing I’m sure of is that I’ve managed to collect the greatest group of soldiers, diplomats, spies, and_ _friends_ _anyone could ever ask for._

_I’m sorry to leave it like this, but I know I’ll see you all again. Don’t worry for me, I just...need some time alone. I’ll keep in touch._

_I love you all so much._

_I’m sorry to have disappointed you all._

 

_Your Inquisitor,_

_Rhyella Lavellan._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I'm sorry. :')  
> Also sorry for a little gap between updates, work has been crazy and then inspiration promptly flew out the window. I've had this chapter on reserve and I wanted to stay ahead of the updates but I figured it'd been long enough. Now I just gotta....get to work on chapter 5,,,,a h, hopefully there will be another update within two weeks.  
> Anyway! Comments and kudos are always appreciated! Thank you to those who have left really nice comments in the first 3 chapters! And as always, shout out to my betas, Leslie and Alex.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She saw fur made of smoke, six eyes that glowed like iron from a forge. The muscles of its shoulders rolled as it stalked, until it stepped into the center of the room: a great, black wolf.  
> Her breath caught but she held fast, even as every hair on her body stood on end.  
> “Tel garas solasan,” it said. “Leave while you still can, harellan.”

_Mia,_

_Look! I’m writing you first! I hope you’re impressed, but don’t get used to it._

_But back to the task at hand, I’m writing to tell you Rhyella is visiting the Sanctuary. I figured you should hear it from me before Maker-knows-what kind of rumor reached you. I’ve been retired for over four years and these people still love to gossip. I’ll never understand it._

_She’s been here for a month now, though I’m not sure how long she plans to stay. I think she’s quite smitten with everyone here. I know they certainly are with her. It’s almost like nothing has changed at all. But everything has. I’m still not quite sure where that leaves me._

_Anyway, give everyone my love. I promise to visit before the year is out._

_Cullen_

_Ps Before you ask: no, we are_ _not_ _._

 

“Well?” Branson was standing over her with his arms folded over his chest, foot tapping impatiently. “Out with it, what does it say?”

“The Inqu—”

He tore the letter from Mia’s hands before she could finish.

They were gathered around the inn’s dining table, huddled around a single piece of parchment that had arrived early in the morning. It was addressed to Mia, of course. But it wasn’t like the other two cared about that at all. Rosalie and Branson had nearly clawed each other’s eyes out to get to Mia first.

Thankfully, she was taller than the both of them and held it above her head until they stopped acting like children for at least ten seconds.

It lasted long enough for her to read it over once.

Branson’s eyes hurried across the page, finally bursting into wicked laughter that made Rosalie jump. He read it again and again, each time his laughter grew louder.

Rosalie blinked, bright blue eyes wide and darting between her two older siblings. “What is it?”

He tossed the page back onto the table and scrubbed his hand across his eyes. “Maker’s balls, I can’t believe it. It’s too hilarious to be true!”

“Oh, for pity’s sake, someone tell me what’s going on!” Rosalie scrambled across the table, but Mia snatched it up before she could reach it.

Mia shot them both a dirty look. “You two are worse than a roost of clucking hens, I swear.”

Branson ignored her and continued to howl, doubled over with his arms around his ribs. “The Inquisitor is at the Sanctuary with Cullen! I bet he’s shitting himself!”

Rosalie gasped, hands clapping together. “Rhyella’s with Cullen?”

“Branson, they worked together for years,” Mia cried. “Give him more credit than that.”

“You’re right, I bet he stares at her like a lost puppy when he thinks no one is looking.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Rosalie sighed. A soft, dreamy smile painted on her mouth. It made her look more doll-like than human, which in turn made Mia frown.

He snorted. “Of course you do.”

Mia reached up smacked the back of Branson’s head. “You’re lucky he’s not here to hear you run your mouth. You two would be knocking each other across the yard by now.”

Branson rubbed the back of his head with a scowl. “But it’s not like he ever wins.”

She stared at him for a moment. “You know, sometimes I forget you’re a father.”

He shrugged.

She almost envied Cullen, though she was pretty positive Branson was right— not that she’d ever admit it— he was probably in a constant state of flustered panic. At least he wasn’t stuck in South Reach with these two _children_. One day she was going to snap and tie them up and throw them in the shed just to get some peace and quiet.

“But what should we do?” Rosalie gnawed on her lower lip like she always did when she was thinking.

Mia’s semi-permanent frown deepened. “Do about what exactly?”

She shook her head like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Cull! Obviously, we can’t leave this up to him. Or the Inquisitor either for that matter. At this rate they’ll be eighty and still mooning over each other.”

“That reminds me,” Branson drawled. “You should know he didn’t refer to her by ‘The Inquisitor’, by the way.” A slow grin spread over his mouth.

She gasped. “He actually called her _Rhyella_?”

Branson nodded.

A shrill squeal erupted from her mouth. “We have to go! We have to make sure they don’t mess this up.”

“Oh no,” Mia said. “No, no, no. We are _not_ meddling in Cullen’s affairs.”

“Rose, you wicked thing. I like the way you think.”

She made a satisfied noise. “Someone has to be the brains of the family.”

“Absolutely not!” Mia was this close to going through with the shed plan. “He’ll kill us! He’s a grown man that can take care of himself. He’ll absolutely throttle us.”

“But only after he thanks us,” Branson said.

Mia pointed, shifting between them both, wagging her finger in their faces. “I said no! And how do you even know she likes him? What if we just make things worse?”

Rosalie rolled her eyes. “You remember when we visited, before the council. The way she laughed with him, the way she looked at him. Maker’s breath, they couldn’t even be in the same room without being at each other’s side.”

Branson made a face but nodded. “It was disgusting.”

Mia threw her hands up. “I am not travelling all the way across the bloody Hinterlands just so my brother and the Inquisitor can get it on. Unlike some of you, I have responsibilities. A wife, an inn to run.” She scowled. “You know? Like an adult?”

“I’m an adult! Last time I checked, I had a job and a son.”

“You plow fields and questionable women, that doesn’t make you an adult.”

He was about to reply when Rosalie leapt from her seat. “Enough! We’re going with or without you, Mia. So everyone start packing.”

Mia opened her mouth then snapped it closed again. With a huff of defeat, she slunk down in her seat. “You two are not going by yourselves. But when he freaks out, I’m leaving you two to the wolves. I had nothing to do with this. I tried to stop you.”

Branson and Rosalie shared a triumphant smile.

\---

She dreamt of the Solasan.

The heart of the temple was empty and alight with the blue-green glow of veilfire. The chill of moist, cold air clung to her skin. Everything was sticky with it, the stone walls and floor. Where it should’ve been a relief from the oppressive heat of the oasis, it made her entire body ache like she’d just broken a fever.

Still, she ran her lone hand along the lines of the wall and moved deeper into the chamber. Her feet carried her forward without the hesitation she felt in her heart.

But she stopped when the shadows started to move.

One by one, the veilfire disappeared, snuffed out by a figure that circled the room like a predator. It was the slow crawl of something ancient, something more powerful than any demon or spirit she’d ever seen.

She saw fur made of smoke, six eyes that glowed like iron from a forge. The muscles of its shoulders rolled as it stalked, until it stepped into the center of the room: a great, black wolf.

Her breath caught but she held fast, even as every hair on her body stood on end.

“ _Tel garas solasan_ ,” it said. “Leave while you still can, _harellan_.”

She set her jaw and ignored the wolf, pulling the words she remembered from the voices in the Well. “ _Ar-melana dirthavaren. Revas vir-anaris. Iras na Fen’Harel?”_

“I know who you are, Inquisitor.” The wolf bristled, lips curling back over grisly teeth into a snarl. “ _Garas quenathra? Fen'Harel ma halam_!”

“You do not frighten me, _fen_ ,” she said. “I know you know where he is. _Ma halani, dirth ma_. ”

“ _Banal_. If he wanted to be found, you would be at his side, would you not?” The wolf’s snarl curled into a smile that knotted fear around her spine. “’ _Var lath vir suledin_ _.’_ He fed you lies and you devoured them like starving child. _Ma ghi'mya din lath_!”

And then the wolf was upon her, with his jaws around her ribs.

 

She woke with a start, blinking past the sunlight filtering through the window. The place where her left hand should’ve been ached. Phantom, distant, like if she thought hard enough she could’ve flexed fingers that weren’t there.

She closed her eyes and willed the pain away, willed the visions of a black wolf from her mind. She’d had the dream before, but it never seemed to get any easier to endure. Each time she would wake with a pounding heart and rush to check her torso for teeth marks.

They were never there.

 _A deep breath in through your nose and hold it_ , just like Cullen would tell someone in the midst of a panic attack. _Let it out slowly through your mouth._

 _Breathe in_.

The wolf clamped down until her bones splintered.

 _Hold it_.

She screamed until she choked on blood.

 _Exhale_.

She repeated it until the sun slid above her window.

The ache had dulled to something she could ignore and her heart had settled, though not her mind. Still, she heard the Sanctuary coming to life around her, so she slid from her bed. For the past month, she’d been surrounded by people who’d witnessed horrors, just like her. Who had nightmares and flashbacks, who shook when someone slammed a door too loud.

If they could get up and endure, so could she.

She dressed quickly, absentmindedly running her hand through her hair and away from her face. Truth be told, she missed having her long hair. But like most things, it was ten times harder to manage with only one hand.

With a final glance in the small mirror hung over the dresser— gifted to her by Emilia— she slipped out the door.

And ran straight into Cullen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOME TRANSLATIONS FOR THE ELVEN:  
>  _Tel garas solasan: Come not to a prideful place_  
>  _Harellan: traitor_  
>  _Ar-melana dirthavaren. Revas vir-anari (a secret greeting for Fen'Harel, meaning unknown, though the best I can translate it is): I promise forever to walk the path of freedom_  
>  _Iras na Fen’Harel: Where is the Dread Wolf?_  
>  _Garas quenathra? Fen'Harel ma halam: Why are you here? Dread Wolf end you!_  
>  _Fen: wolf_  
>  _Ma halani, dirth ma: Help me, tell me_  
>  _Banal: never_  
>  _Var lath vir suledin: Our love can endure_  
>  _Ma ghi'mya din lath: You hunt a dead love!_
> 
>  
> 
> __  
> __  
> _Special thanks to the dragon age wiki and FenxShiral for their Elvhen Lexicon here on ao3. I apologize if anything is wrong, I did my best._  
>  ANYWAY, please don't kill me for the 2 cliffhangers in a row. I promise all will be revealed (and worth the wait) soon. I hope you all enjoy my interpretation of the Ruthorford siblings! I'm looking forward to working with them more >:)  
> As always, shout out to the betas Leslie and Alex. And thank you for all the kudos and comments! They provide me warmth and inspiration for these cold winter nights.  
> PS I have an outtake flashback for this 'fic-verse' that takes place right after they arrive at Skyhold, featuring a very witty lady Hawke, and Cullen and Rhyella, of course. Let me know if you'd like to read it and I'll post it as a oneshot. :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen swallowed the lump in his throat and stared into the fire. His grip on his glass tightened. “I looked for you, you know. The night you left. Cassandra and Dorian had to drag me back to Skyhold. A part of me feared I’d find you half dead in the snow again.”  
> “Cullen,” she whispered, voice cracked and broken. She put her hand over his and ran her thumb over his knuckles. “I—”  
> With a surge of bravery, he turned and cupped her cheek, trying to ignore the way she almost leaned into him. “I wanted to find you. I thought—” He glanced at her mouth. “I thought I could be enough to make you stay.”

They were so close he had to look down to see her.

He felt the warmth of her, smelled the delicate scent of earth and soap in her hair. His hand, still lamely raised to knock on her door, itched to brush a stray curl behind her ear.

He rubbed the back of his neck and took a step backwards. “There you are! I was just coming to check on you.”

_ Definitely not weird, right?  _ He bit his tongue to keep from sighing.

There were dark circles under her eyes, but she smiled anyway. He was about to ask when she spoke. “I’m fine. Apparently, I wanted to sleep in today.”

He studied her face and frowned. “Is everything alright?”

Her eyes widened briefly, and then that cursedly-pleasant mask fell over her face. He knew she was lying, and she knew he knew. But she did it anyway. “I said I’m fine, Cullen.”

The faintest of lines marked the skin between her brows but she managed a tight smile. She tried to slip past him, and he caught her arm.

It was ill conceived. She didn’t owe him any explanation, he wasn’t supposed to pry. But the part that scared him most was that he didn’t even think about it. She was walking away and he couldn’t stand to see her go. At least, not while she was hurting.

It was a little irrational, he knew. It was unlikely she was going to leave for good, but the thought—the sheer  _ possibility— _ made his stomach drop.

_ No _ , he thought.  _ Not again _ .

He felt her tremble beneath his fingers. “You can talk to me, Rhyella.” His voice fell soft. “Whatever it is. I’m here.”

_ Please. Please let me in. _

She looked up at him and the mask shattered. “I had a nightmare.” She took a shaky breath, searching his face. “About Solas. I’m sorry.”

He blinked. “Why in Andraste’s name would you be sorry?”

“I—” She opened her mouth and closed it again, fighting words behind her teeth. “I feel so foolish, like a stupid little girl.”

“You’re not foolish.” He let his hand slip down her arm to squeeze her fingers. “It’s not foolish to be hurt, to have cared enough to get hurt.”

“What about to still hurt? Even after all this time?” A sigh fell from her mouth and she shook her head, turning to stare at the floor. “I don’t even feel like the same person as back then, but I don’t think the pain cares.”

He offered her a sad smile. “It never does.”

She frowned for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “I’m truly sorry, you know. For what you endured. For me, before me. I wish I had understood more back then.” She was red-faced and fumbling over her words. For once, it wasn’t him babbling like a child. “I wish I could’ve helped you. I wish I could take it back.”

It was almost painful. His heart swelled, pressing against his aching ribs. He wanted to take her face in his hands and—

He wanted to kiss her.

He wanted to show her how much she meant to him.

But what did she mean to him?

_ Oh _ .

The realization fell upon him like snow. Slowly, at first. He could watch it with delight as it descended, counting down the flakes, the moments. And when he blinked, he was blanketed in it.

The word wrapped around his tongue so tightly he couldn’t speak.

He was in love with her.

Rhyella blinked up at him and he came crashing back down. So instead of kissing her, he resigned to let his thumb brush over her knuckles. “You’ve helped me more than you could ever know.”

She started to reply, corners of her mouth soft and lifted, until her eyes slipped over his shoulder.

When he turned, a young man with ruddy brown hair was staring at them like a fish. Cullen shot him a dirty look and the young man had the decency to flush and dart off with his head ducked.

Looking back, he squeezed her hand again. “Maybe we should talk somewhere more private?”

\----

Remus was laying on the carpet before the fireplace. When Cullen shut the door behind them, Remus lifted his head and huffed in Rhyella’s direction, before falling fast asleep again. A soft laugh escaped her mouth.

Cullen could’ve almost been jealous. Remus liked Rhyella more than he liked him, traitor dog. Though he certainly didn’t blame him.

Rhyella made her way into the room, heading directly for the chaise in front of the fire. She was always cold, he found. He’d have to remember to find her warmer clothes somewhere.

Maybe he’d write Mia or Rosalie?

_Ah, no. Definitely not._ He would truly never hear the end of it then. They were the last things he needed to deal with right now.

She nudged her toes along Remus’ back and smiled. “Someone sleeps enough for the both of us.”

Cullen laughed. “I think you’re right about that. He’s old though, so I gave up on trying to get him to do anything else.”

“Poor thing.”

He hummed and took a seat next to her, a careful hand’s breadth apart. But he could still feel the warmth of her. She angled herself to look at him, knee brushing his.

_ Maker _ , she was determined to be the death of him.

“You said you wanted to talk?”

His hands flexed in his lap. “Yes. I mean—only if you want to, of course.”

She let herself lean into the cushion of the armrest, fiddling with the skin around her thumbnail. “I do, it’s just…”

“Complicated.”

A halfhearted smile tugged at her mouth. “Yes. As usual.”

His eyes slid to the bottle of liquor he kept stashed on an end table by the door. “Complicated is nothing a drink can’t fix. It’s a little early in the day, but if you—”

The tension evaporated from her shoulders. “Creator’s please!”

With another low laugh, he slid from the chaise and towards the table. “Remind me to thank Branson, then.”

“Your little brother gave you alcohol?”

“To take the edge off,” he mused. “Apparently, he thinks too much like Varric. I still have a problem with being too serious.”

There was a glimmer of amusement to her voice. “I can’t imagine where they’d ever get that idea.”

He smirked, not that she could see. “Neither can I.”

It took him a minute to find where he’d stashed the glasses—bottom drawer of his desk, for some blighted reason. As he fixed their drinks, he finally heard her shift in her seat and sigh. He paused until her voice broke through the silence, soft and sad.

“There was a wolf,” she said. “In my dream. I was in a temple, looking for—”

“Solas.”

She was silent for a moment. “Solas,” she repeated. There was a bitterness to her tone, the edge of something broken and still digging into her skin like shrapnel. “The wolf said if Solas wanted to be found, I would be with him. And then the wolf attacked me.”

He took their glasses and crossed the room back to Rhyella. She was staring down at the upturned hand in her lap, tracing the scars that ran along her palm with her eyes.

“Do you think it was him?” He held a glass out to her.

She thought before she took it. “I don’t think so, not really. I think it was just me. Projecting.” She swallowed half her glass in a single gulp and watched him as he took his seat again next to her.

A question snagged on the tip of his tongue. He took a sip of the bitter liquor and let it wash loose. “Do…do you still love him?”

He heard her sharp inhale and he was positive he’d ruined everything.

“Rhyella, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t—”

“No.”

He looked up and found her staring at him intently. “No?”

There was something dark in her eyes, stormy, despite the fire reflected in them. “No, I don’t love him. Not anymore.”

“But?”

“But I’m angry.” She shook her head, jaw clenched and fingers shaking around her glass. “I’m so angry it feels like I’m choking on it. I want to move on but I swore to him that I’d make him see this world was worth saving. I don’t know how to do both.”

“You don’t have to do both. No one expects you to do both.” A heavy, helpless feeling squeezed at his throat. “You saved the world once, and that’s more than enough.”

She let out a shaky laugh. “But if I don’t stop him, who will?”

“ _ We _ will. Your friends, his friends. I know it might be hard to believe, but some of us did come to consider him a friend.”

He saw she wanted to argue, but she swallowed it. “I hope you’re right.”

“As am I.” He took another drink and winced at the burn down his throat.

Minutes of silence passed, save for the sound of the crackling logs and their steady breathing.

Then, her nails tapped along the rim of her glass. “You’re always comforting me, comforting everyone here.”

 “Is that a problem?”

“I just want you to know that this goes both ways now.” She watched him for a moment, like she was trying to see through him, down bone and sinew and all the things he wanted to say but never dared. “You can talk to me too, if you trust me. I know I’ve been selfish in the past.”

“Rhyella,” her name slid from him like a prayer, immediately causing heat to spread through his muscles. “I do trust you.”

“Then let me say this,” she said suddenly, desperately. “I never should have left the way I did. You deserved better than a bitter letter, left in my room for someone to find because I couldn’t dare look at anyone again and see their pity.”

Cullen swallowed the lump in his throat and stared into the fire. His grip on his glass tightened. “I looked for you, you know. The night you left. Cassandra and Dorian had to drag me back to Skyhold. A part of me feared I’d find you half dead in the snow again.”

“Cullen,” she whispered, voice cracked and broken. She put her hand over his and ran her thumb over his knuckles. “I—”

With a surge of bravery, he turned and cupped her cheek, trying to ignore the way she almost leaned into him. “I wanted to find you. I thought—” He glanced at her mouth. “I thought I could be enough to make you stay.”

And then she was pressed against him, with her mouth on his and her arms around his neck.

He froze before he remembered this was real, not another one of those wretched dreams conjured to torture him. She was real and here and so sweet and warm against him. Their drinks fell forgotten to the floor. Clattering and spilling all over the rug, but he couldn’t bring himself to mind. Though Remus was less fond of the idea and crawled under the chaise.

She sighed and parted his lips with her own, drawing a noise from the back of his throat that made her hand curl in his hair. Her tongue tasted of alcohol and something earthy-sweet.

His heart was pounding as he brought his palms to rest against the small of her back and bring her closer. She pulled back for the briefest of moments to catch her breath and swing a leg over his thighs to move onto his lap. His eyes flicked down to watch her press against him.

_ Oh, Maker _ .

When he looked up her eyes were bright and pale like moonlit lavender, pupils dilated, with a loose strand of hair fallen in her face. He let her go long enough to sweep it back behind her ear. The swell of affection was enough to make his breath catch.

“Cullen,” her fingers threaded through the hair at the base of his skull. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

He wanted to taste her again, to have her pressed against his chest with her legs over his. But he brought a hand up to run his thumb over her mouth. “Do you want to stop?”

Her lips parted just enough for him to feel her breath across the pad of his thumb. “I don’t know.”

“Then we’ll stop until you know.” He placed one last kiss on corner of her lips, trying to quell the ache that built in his chest.

She let her head drop to his shoulder. “I’m so sorry. For everything.”

“You don’t have to be.”

The next time they kissed, he’d be sure it was what she truly wanted. It would be her against him because she wanted him, not because she was trying forget their shared sadness.

They’d stop having to apologize.

And he’d leave her breathless. 

When she slid from his lap, the absence of her made his skin tingle uncomfortably. Color painted the high plains of her face, lips red and swollen and still parted. She stood and ran a hand through her hair.

She looked like she was about to run. But instead, he watched as she took a deep breath and finally met his waiting gaze. “I should go check on . . . something.”

“Right,” he said, lamely. “As should I.”

She nodded, and slipped from his office without a second glance. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't kill me :^)  
> A liiiiiiiiittle bit of pay off finally, but of course this is a slow burn and you can't have it all quite yet. I said I'd cut back on cliffhangers. This doesn't count as one right? RIGHT??  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed so far! Comments and kudos are very much appreciated. I'll love you forever and forever.   
> As always blah blah blah, shout out to the betas: Leslie and Alex.  
> AND to Krist and Victoria for yelling at me about this fic. <3 You guys are The Best.   
> Find me on tumblr @ tatraas


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The back of his eyes stung. This was truly his penance. There would always be some part of him that was ripped open, rubbed raw and unhealing. He’d been a fool to hope otherwise. He let his eyelids drop and he focused on breathing evenly.  
> He made no movements to look as he heard someone approach. A hand rested on his shoulder, and Cassandra’s voice spoke up, slow and gentle. “This isn’t over, Cullen. Not even close. You will endure. You will see the Inquisitor again.”  
> “I thought I was healing. I thought I was stronger than this,” he whispered, opening his eyes to look at her. “But as soon as I stop moving it all comes crashing back down. I feel like I’m drowning.”  
> “Then swim.” Cassandra’s brows knitted together. “You _are_ healing. Progress is not lost here, that doesn’t stop when you put the armor away. There’s work still left to do for all of us, Inquisition or no.”  
>  Cullen stared at her for a long time, letting a flood of words wash over his tongue but saying nothing.

_ Before: _

There was an instinct in him, long-buried beneath emptied draughts and nights of shaking fingers, that remembered how to track someone. 

Footprints were the easiest, of course. Outlines of boots in the mud and snow if they were fresh, divots in the earth if they were not. Disruptions in the underbrush, places where the dried winter leaves and twigs had been snapped and smashed and cleared. Strands of hair, caught in the tangle of branches, against the rough bark of a tree. 

The sting of mana in the air. Thick and tingly like ozone.

It all came back to him in a flood of adrenaline, strong enough to make him sick to his stomach. 

_ I wanted to forget this. I wanted to leave this behind. _

But a part of him was thankful that he hadn’t.

Skyhold was a distant glow in the mountains, a star that used to point home. Though instead of following it, he clawed away from it through the drifts of snow. 

Her footprints were spaced far apart, running, scrambling. They’d been softened by a light dusting of snow, but no more than two hours old. But two hours was still two hours, and he’d have to hurry if he had any hope of finding her.

He wasn’t sure what exactly he was hoping to find: an endless trail he could follow but never catch up to, or her curled up and freezing in the snow. One meant she was alive, but the other. . .

He sucked in a deep breath of cold air, stinging his lungs, and called her name. It echoed through the valley, but when the sound of his own voice faded out into the distance, there was no reply. 

“Maker’s breath, Rhyella.” He clenched his fists until the leather squeaked. “Just please don’t be dead.”

He’d been so stupid, so shy. Too late, just like Dorian said. He should’ve listened. If he’d been less afraid, she’d be safe and warm and not  _ halfway across the bloody Frostbacks in the middle of the night _ . 

Wouldn’t she?

He stopped to lean against a dying tree, chest heaving. 

Maybe nothing would be different. Maybe he would’ve bared his heart for her and she still would’ve left. 

It wasn’t like he expected anything of her, for her to love him back or to fall into his arms. He just. . . he wanted her to know that no matter what, he was on her side. Unconditional. There was nowhere she could go that he wouldn’t follow. 

Maker, that half of Thedas wouldn’t follow.

He pulled his coat tighter around him and with a steadying breath, started after her again.

\-----

Skyhold had disappeared, somewhere roughly three miles to the east. The wind had picked up, howling through the mountains and biting right through his furs and boots. He knew if he kept going for long, at least without a fire, he’d be leaving his own trail of blue fingers and toes.

But he kept moving forward. 

He called her name through chattering teeth. He cupped his hands around his mouth and breathed hot air against his gloves, for whatever good it did. With his hands still around his mouth, he called again. “Rhyella!”

His echoed died out, and just as he was about to move on, he heard an answer.

“Cullen Stanton Rutherford, you fucking idiot!” 

He turned and found Dorian, red-faced and mustache slick with ice, crawling over an embankment with his staff braced like a walking stick.

“Dorian! What—”

“You  _ blighted  _ fool! You dim-witted, mabari-humping, fucking moron!” He tripped and fell face-first into the snow. When he sprang up again, spitting snow and looking murderous, his face was carved into a snarl that made Cullen take a step back. “I ought to kill you myself! You’re lucky I can’t feel my fingers or I’d wrap them around your neck until you were suckling Andraste’s tits in person!”

Cassandra crested over the drift, looking much more together but no less furious. “Now is hardly the time for blasphemy. We very well may freeze to death out here.”

“Cassandra!” He glanced between them. “What are you two doing out here?”

Dorian opened his mouth to bite out a reply before Cassandra whacked his chest with the broadside of her sword. She scowled at Cullen. “We could ask you the same thing! What were you thinking running out here by yourself?”

Dorian shoved past her. “We came to make sure the Inquisition wasn’t about to lose two key members tonight.”

Cullen inhaled sharply through his nose, cold air burning all the way to his lungs. Hearing them say it out loud made the world shift on its axis, like suddenly he wasn’t sure he could stand straight. He stumbled backwards until his back met something solid— a rock jutting out of the ground. 

Something soft, sympathetic passed over Cassandra’s face. “Cullen—”

“I have to find her.” It came spilling from his mouth. “I have to bring her back, I have to convince her to stay.”

Cassandra shook her head gently. “There’s nothing you can do in the middle of the night. She’s been gone for hours, by the look of her tracks.”

He looked at Dorian, a desperate attempt to find an anchor, someone who understood. Instead, Dorian’s mask of anger had fallen to something that made Cullen’s stomach drop. “If she doesn’t want to be found…” Dorian took a breath, trying to keep his voice even. Still, it shook. “We’ll find her, I swear it. But we’re not going to do it with just the three of us tonight.”

“But what if she’s hurt? What if she freezes to death? I can’t...I—” He put his hand over heart, feeling it pound against his chest. It was hard to breathe. The desperation was creeping in, all those whispers and aches he’d kept locked away. Memories of failures and hateful words, spat by a man he never wanted to be again. 

He could fight them when there were things to do, an Inquisition to command. Now, it was all crashing down. 

He blinked and let his head fall back to rest on the rock, staring up at the stars. 

_ Deep breath in through your nose. _

It was all over.

_ Hold it. _

The Inquisitor was gone. The Inquisition was no more.

_ Exhale. _

He didn’t know how to just be Cullen. He didn’t even know if there was  _ just  _ a Cullen.

_ Repeat _ .

The back of his eyes stung. This was truly his penance. There would always be some part of him that was ripped open, rubbed raw and unhealing. He’d been a fool to hope otherwise. He let his eyelids drop and he focused on breathing evenly. 

He made no movements to look as he heard someone approach. A hand rested on his shoulder, and Cassandra’s voice spoke up, slow and gentle. “This isn’t over, Cullen. Not even close. You will endure. You will see the Inquisitor again.”

“I thought I was healing. I thought I was stronger than this,” he whispered, opening his eyes to look at her. “But as soon as I stop moving it all comes crashing back down. I feel like I’m drowning.”

“Then swim.” Cassandra’s brows knitted together. “You  _ are  _ healing. Progress is not lost here, that doesn’t stop when you put the armor away. There’s work still left to do for all of us, Inquisition or no.” 

Cullen stared at her for a long time, letting a flood of words wash over his tongue but saying nothing. 

Dorian shifted in the snow, catching himself with his staff. “Not to break up the heartfelt discussions or anything, but maybe we can do this somewhere warm? Like, I don’t know, a nice castle or a fortress?”

Cassandra threw a dirty look over her shoulder but Cullen laughed, a hollow, half-hearted sound. 

“You’re not going to die in the two minutes it takes for us to talk,  _ Tevinter _ .”

Dorian sniffed. “I might.”

She scoffed and turned back to Cullen. “As much as I hate to admit he may be right, we really should head back. We’re no good to the Inquisitor exhausted and frostbitten.”

“Fine,” Cullen said. The thoughts were still there, clawing at the back of his brain and itching over his skin, but he willed them down. He willed himself to keep breathing. “But I’m not leaving Skyhold until I know she’s safe.”

Dorian nodded, mouth pressed into a thin line. “I think we’re all in agreement there.”

As Cassandra started to pull Cullen back towards Skyhold, he spared one last glance back at the mountains that stretched towards Orlais. 

_ Maker, guide her _ , he prayed.  _ Don’t let this be how we end.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt bad about the gap between updates so I had to give y'all something. I'm going to blame it on the fact that I haven't been feeling very well the last couple weeks and I have to have surgery December 28th, but such is life. I'll recover. I try not to have chapters that are _just_ flashbacks but sometimes it just happens. (Apparently I really like writing in Cullen's POV??? Who would've guessed...) I just really wanted to get an update out.  
>  Anyway, hope you all enjoyed! Comments and kudos are much appreciated. Shout out to the betas as always, Leslie and Alex. You the best.  
> If you're interested, I made a playlist for this story on spotify! You can find it [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/tatraluke/playlist/1DfikkpphJaqdGqP4NNZhG). Let me know what you think!  
> Find me on tumblr @ tatraas


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